


Between Two Soldiers

by DebraHicks



Category: War of the Worlds (TV 1988)
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, M/M, Period-Typical Racism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-04
Updated: 2021-01-04
Packaged: 2021-03-14 04:27:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 16,547
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28539597
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DebraHicks/pseuds/DebraHicks
Summary: Are the aliens working with a notorious white supremacist group?  It is up to Harrison and Derriman to infiltrate the group and find out.  When Ironhorse is capture by the group things get even more complicated.Orignially published in "Dyad #12" 1/5/1992STIFFie 1992 Best WOW
Relationships: Harrison Blackwood/Paul Ironhorse





	Between Two Soldiers

"Good morning!” Harrison bounced into the computer room with a wide smile. Neither Ironhorse or Norton replied, completely intent on the terminal screen.

Mood waning rapidly, Harrison asked, "Why do I get the feeling that you're about to tell me it isn't a good morning?"

"I've got a location for that last set of transmissions," Norton explained.

The tall scientist cast a quick glance toward Ironhorse but the dark-haired man was standing rigid behind Norton, refusing to meet his look. His manner made Harrison even more apprehensive about asking the obvious question.

"Where?"

"Hayden Lake, Idaho,” Norton answered shortly.

He waited for his old friend to elaborate. When nothing more was volunteered. Harrison spread his hands wide, “Come on, Norton, even I don't know everything! What is in Hayden Lake, Idaho?"

"Headquarters of the Church of Jesus Christ Christian."

Harrison continued blank look pulled at Norton's sense of humor. He turned in his wheelchair enough to look at the silent colonel. “I told you he was hopeless at anything topical."

Norton's joking manner broke some of the seriousness of Ironhorse's stance. Onyx eyes connected with Harrison's puzzled turquoise. “And after I brought him that subscription to Time."

Harrison gave him a mock glare, a little relieved that the man was willing to joke.

"Does the Aryan Nationalist Organization ring a bell?” Norton questioned.

“Ah," Harrison took a short breath. "Yes, that group has made itself known, even to me.” Sitting down, he leaned over the map. “Okay. The question is infiltration or cooperation?"

"Neither one makes my top forty,” Norton quipped.

Ironhorse leaned closer. "Do you really think even that group would cooperate with the aliens?"

"Don't you?” Harrison questioned intently. “What if the aliens promised them the same deal Quinn offered me? Promise to get rid of anyone who doesn't meet their Aryan ideal and give them control of the survivors."

Through clenched teeth, Ironhorse said, "I've put in a request for all information any agency has on the. AN. And Omegas on yellow alert." The soldier paced away. “We can't just charge in there... people have weathered frontal assaults with the police and Feds, then bent every law to make it look like their rights had been violated . Someone's going to have to get inside."

Harrison watched worry trace across Paul's handsome face. Norton turned toward the computer. He stood, took off his glasses and rubbed his nose. “When do I leave and how do I get in?"

Ironhorse whirled; worry changing to fear in the dark eyes. "No."

"I'm the logical choice,” Blackwood stated levelly. "I know what to look for. And I can say in complete confidence that this is one place you are not going to get in, Colonel."

Anger replaced the fear. "Blackwood, I have plenty of men..."

"Is it too late to turn around and leave?” Suzanne questioned from the elevator door. She forced herself between the two combatants. "Someone want to explain what it is this time?"

Before either man could answer, Norton said, "Mission."

Harrison ignored the microbiologist's entry, continued to outline his case over her head. “I'll take whoever you assign with me, Colonel, but we both know..."

Scowling passed Suzanne; Ironhorse said sharply, "My office, Doctor." He marched to the elevator without looking back.

His own jaw tight, Harrison followed without comment. Behind them Suzanne and Norton both grimaced at each other. Suzanne shook her head.

"Somehow, I got the obviously mistaken impression that once they became....” She stammered to a stop, flushing slightly.

"Lovers, Suzanne,” Norton grinned. “The word is lovers."

"I know that!"

"You thought they'd quit arguing?” Norton finished her thought. “The day they do that is the day I whip out the Geiger counter."

He wiggled his eyebrows at her, and they both started laughing.

Ironhorse held the door open for Blackwood, closing it behind him with more force than was necessary. The doctor turned, surprised to find the colonel standing face to face with him. He crossed his arms, ready to pick up where they had left off.

"Colonel..."

Strong arms wrapped around him, one hand tangled in his curls and urged his head down to meet the hot press of Paul's mouth.

The kiss was hard and tinged with anger. Harrison's arms enfolded the smaller man, mouth open, meeting fire with cool acceptance, letting Ironhorse vent his fear. The pressure eased, gentled. With a sigh Ironhorse returned the invitation, let Harrison's tongue glide into his mouth they eased apart. Ironhorse moved to his desk, sat down without a sound.

Harrison stood very still for a long minute, reining hard on his confusion. He turned, leaned over the neat, oak desk.

"What was that for?"

“You're right,” Ironhorse said flatly. “And I hate it."

Sympathy and love swamped Harrison. He came around, knelt and slipped an arm across Ironhorse's chest, leaning his forehead against one muscled shoulder Ironhorse didn't move. Harrison knew how hard it was for him to let go, knew it was only behind closed doors that the loving warmth and gentle humor came out.

"I love you, too,” he said lightly, kissing Paul on the cheek.

The cheek darkened and very slowly a soft, rueful, smile lifted the right side of the tight mouth. Satisfied, Harrison stood up. "What's the plan?"

At one time Harrison would have been outraged at the seemingly endless parade of 'safe houses' owned by the government; houses that mostly sat empty. His outrage had given way, not exactly to acceptance, but at least to a better understanding of their necessary evil. He watched Ironhorse carry the last of the equipment into their temporary base picking up his own bag, he followed his guardian inside.

Ironhorse was opening windows in the small front room. Harrison walked through, down a narrow hall, checking out the tiny kitchen and single bedroom. The regional FBI agent who had handled the arrangements hadn't done the place justice, describing it as 'a rundown farm shack.' While it wouldn't have earned five stars it was fairly kept up, with modern appliances, comfortable furniture and a large bathroom a chill from the living room rushed down the hall and he pulled his coat tighter. He appreciated the outdoors as much as the next man, but Ironhorse's obsession with fresh air, especially when it was still snowing outside, continued to amaze him.

He came back down the hall far enough to prop against the paper covered wall and watch Ironhorse unpack. The man was all lean grace and quick efficacy as he started setting up the tracking and radio equipment. A slight smile tugged at Harrison's lips.

"Is it cold enough in here for you?” he teased. Paul had removed his jacket.

A single eyebrow arched over the deep eyes. “Just fine, Doctor."

The soldier continued unpacking without further comment. Harrison's smile grew a little wider. He closed the space between them, wrapped long arms around the slender waist from behind, lay a light kiss to the base of Paul's neck.

Ironhorse pulled away, spinning around. “Stop it, Doctor.'

Not surprised by the response, and noting that Ironhorse hadn't moved out of touching distance, Harrison raised a hand and traced a single finger along one collarbone under the flannel shirt.

"You're not going to give me that 'we're on duty' lecture again, are you?” he questioned lowly.

Ironhorse moved away with an obvious effort. "We are on duty."

Instead of pursuing, Harrison only laughed, letting his hand drop. "Technically, Colonel, we are always on 'duty.'“ He leered. "That hasn't stopped you before."

"That's different,” the soldier argued. “This time we're on an official stakeout waiting..."

"We are in a house in the woods, waiting for Derriman to arrive tomorrow.” Harrison once again wrapped Paul in a loose embrace. “Alone in a house."

"Harrison, we still have details to..."

“A house with no neighbors, no Suzanne or Norton or Debi or Ms. Pennyworth," Harrison kissed one tan cheek. “A house with a king sized bed."

Unease filled his lover's dark eyes, conflict over duty and love clear to Harrison. Harrison began to regret distracting the man.

"I'll make a deal with you,” he volunteered. “Finish unloading and run your tests.” He nipped at one ear. "Then we'll test out the bed."

Doubt vanished from Paul's troubled expression, replaced with mischief and lust. "I guess the 'keeping the house too cold idea,' didn't work, huh?"

Harrison slipped a hand up to Ironhorse's chin, turned his head slightly and began to kiss along the high cheekbones, talking softly, "I never worry about getting warmed up with you around, Paul."

Fifty minutes later, Harrison was pleased to note that the test had taken less time than ever before... As the last blip faded off the tracking screen, Ironhorse flipped it off and rose, slowly stretching. Harrison put down the background report he was reading to watch in open enjoyment.

Ironhorse met his gaze and a flush darkened the lean face. Harrison laughed, came over and took him in his arms.

"What are you blushing over?” he demanded huskily.

A slight smile tugged at Ironhorse's mouth. "The way you look at me sometimes, Harrison, would embarrass a prostitute."

Harrison's mouth dropped open. “What?"

"You have the look of a starving man sitting down to a steak dinner or in your case a baked potato."

Before Harrison could voice his innocence, Paul kissed him, leaving no doubt that he could identify with the starving man. Harrison took him by one hand and led the way to the bedroom. Once inside, the smaller man moved to the window and opened it a few inches, started unsnapping the plaid shirt at the same time. Harrison shook his head, Paul's soldier tendencies sometimes extended into the bedroom; he tended to strip quickly. Harrison turned Paul, pushing his hands away from the shirt.

"Let me,” he requested softly. “It's one of my favorite activities."

Paul smiled patiently, stepped back and held his arms out. Kissing down the smooth chest as the snaps opened, Harrison tugged the shirt out of the tight jeans and slid the heavy cotton off Paul's muscled shoulders. He stepped back, letting Ironhorse sit and pull off his polished black boots. Heat blazed along Harrison's nerves as he watched Ironhorse stand and ease out of the denim. By the time Ironhorse had his briefs off; Harrison had shed his own clothes.

Paul scowled. “How come I never get to undress you?"

With a smile, Harrison gestured to his half-risen cock. "Because if I let you undress me we would probably never make it to the bed test portion of this evening."

A single eyebrow arched up and Ironhorse closed, stroked along the solid cock, tongue slipping into Harrison's hot embrace. Harrison lifted him; laid him back on the edge of the bed as he dueled with the intruder, pushing his own tongue into Paul's welcoming mouth. They were both breathing hard when Harrison eased away.

"You're going to throw your back out picking me up like that," Paul commented quietly, wiggling further up the quilted bedspread, drawing Harrison with him.

Harrison didn't answer, hands beginning to glide slowly across the narrow hips, rubbing along the lean ribs. He kissed the long, white scar that ran just under the last rib, the one that always scared him, the one that Ironhorse wouldn't talk about. Paul's strong hands kneaded his shoulders, silently begging for more Harrison smiled, blanketing the lean body with his own, marveling, as always, at how Ironhorse managed to convince everyone he was bigger than he was.

A heavy cock prodded his thigh and he laughed, looking down into glowing obsidian the glow lit Harrison's blood, flooding him like too much hot brandy. He moved off, sat up and drew Paul into his arms, holding him hard and close.

"Harrison?”. A puzzled voice whispered into his ear.

Harrison pulled back far enough to meet the confusion in the dark depths. “I love you so much it scares me,” he confessed hoarsely.

Startled by the quiet, soul-deep statement, Paul stared for a moment, then leaned forward; laid a single, very gentle kiss to Harrison's mouth.

"I love you."

They sat for a long time, holding each other, letting the love enhance the longing. Harrison was the one to lean away first, eyes bright with desire.

"Paul, I want to try it tonight."

Black eyes filled with surprise Paul took Harrison in a searching kiss, calloused hands stroking along his neck. When he pulled back, Harrison was smiling at him, face filled with a combination of lust and nervousness.

Reluctantly, Paul shook his head. “Not tonight.” Before Harrison could protest, he continued levelly, "You'll be sore the first time and we can't afford that tomorrow."

"It shouldn't be that bad,” Harrison argued. “I've been practicing..."

"You've been what?” Ironhorse's eyes went absolutely wide.

"Yoga! I've been practicing muscle relaxation technics,” he laughed.

"God, Harrison, I want to say yes but..." Harrison recognized the steel in Ironhorse's gaze, even as the man started to voice his counter-argument.

A long kiss silenced him Harrison eased away, large hand sliding between their close pressed bodies. “It's okay, Paul. There's time,” he began to kiss lower, “and there are other ways of having fun."

Paul moaned as Harrison's thumb flicked hard over one nipple. The smaller man chuckled. "Between the two of us, I think we know most of them."

"Yes, but tonight there isn't anyone around, so you can be as vocal as you like about enjoying them."

"Vocal? Me?" Ironhorse snapped. “I can make love in complete silence if the need arises."

Stroking along the dark shaft, Harrison said, "The need is defiantly arisen but what fun is being quiet when out here you can make all the noise you want." His hand slipped passed the hard shaft, rolled the tight balls. Paul moaned.

"I want you to let go,” Harrison said in a deep voice.

Onyx eyes glittered with challenge. Harrison smiled. Challenge accepted.

Paul took the chance to show his friend how much he intended to let go. Pushing Harrison back, he laid a trail of fiery kisses along his chest, licking around each hard nipple but not touching. Harrison moaned, pushing up, demanding more contact, needing the press of cool skin. But Ironhorse ignored his silent begging; skimming over damp shoulders with snowflake kisses that raised sparks in Harrison's soul.

"Paul,” he whispered.

A rich chuckle was muffled against his shoulder with slow, senses swamping moves. Paul worked his way down Harrison's body, his hands feeding the fire that he had kindled in the tall scientist. Harrison tugged on his shoulders, urging him back up to meet the hot lips. When Harrison sucked Paul's tongue into his mouth, entwining it; the fire that was roaring through Harrison transferred into Ironhorse's blood.

Paul pulled back, gasping. "God, Harrison."

There was no answer, only a look in the sparkling blue eyes that sent a shiver along Paul's nerves and a slow smile that told him Harrison was enjoying his reaction. Sliding over, Paul tried to gain command but a strong hand gripped his hard cock, pumping, fanning the flames. Ironhorse took a shuddering breath, head going back as he pushed up into the knowing grip.

A single chuckle was his only warning before Harrison shifted, twisting around until he was stretched out opposite Paul, his head resting near Ironhorse's waist. Paul moaned, waiting, feeling the heat echoing along his body, his cock swelling. They took each other at the same time, hot mouths encircling swollen cocks, groaning their pleasure in the fast warming room

Harrison watched pleasure color Paul's face, dark eyes closing, intent on his own pleasure as well as what he was giving. Harrison's hand drifted over the tight muscled ass, slid up the narrow waist, pressing Ironhorse up to him. His other hand kneaded the tight balls; he pulled back, one finger catching the slick saliva that glistened on the dark cock. The heat was building in his stomach, control slipping away. He grabbed for it, fighting back his excitement. He had meant it when he said he wanted Ironhorse to let go.

He moved faster, sliding up and down the velvet covered steel. Slowly his hand drifted back, slipping into the dangerous cleft between the hard muscles. Paul stalled, groaned, pulled away.

"Yes..."

Harrison felt the vibration the sound made. With slow, infuriate gentleness he slipped one finger through the tight muscle.

"Harrison..."

The slender body was suddenly trashing, trying to push up into the sucking and impale himself further on the slender intruder it was all Harrison could do to hold onto his powerful partner.

He could feel the pressure building, knew that Paul was right on the edge. Harrison stopped the intense sucking, held his hand still there was a hot moan from Paul, the onyx eyes snapped open.

"Don't stop damnit, Harrison..."

Smiling, Harrison moved up and kissed him, hard tongue sliding deep into the hot mouth. “Not yet, love,” he teased. "Not yet."

"Why not?” Paul demanded breathlessly.

Harrison smiled wickedly, arching one eyebrow in a borrowed gesture. “Hum, okay, why not."

He moved his finger, twisting the slightest bit and was rewarded with a throaty moan from Ironhorse. He lowered his head again, taking his lover's cock deep into his throat; at the same time, he eased a second finger into the tight muscle.

"Harrison!” Ironhorse barely controlled his scream.

Smiling in triumph, Harrison eased in until his palm was flat against the smooth skin. He increased the sucking, twisted his fingers slowly, searching for that perfect spot.

"Yes!"

Paul came with startling intensity. Harrison sucked, liquid spilling down his throat. He let his own eyes snap shut, felt the power, love and strength radiating from Paul. He let it push him into the twilight; let it flare along his nerves. The control vanished and he came with the same intensity, shooting his seed into the stiff cotton sheets. After a dizzying minute the hard body in his hands relaxed and Harrison felt a breeze-light brush of fingertips against his cheek.

Black eyes smiled up at him, hazy with passion. He smiled back, moving around, shifting until Paul's raven hair rested just below his cheek the smaller man laughed, running a finger teasingly through the sweat damp hair on Harrison's chest.

"Man..."

"I was thinking more... wow,” Harrison chuckled.

Ironhorse pushed up on one elbow, stared down at Harrison. “I didn't..."

A strong kiss silenced him. “If you were about to say you didn’t do much for me - I don't want to hear it."

With a small smile, Ironhorse kissed him chastely on the cheek. “I wouldn't even consider it."

The dark head lay back against Harrison's chest. Ironhorse yawned.

"So,” Harrison said very conversationally, "what were you saying about complete silence?"

"Harrison,” Paul yawned again. “Are you going to lay there and gloat or are you going to go fix us supper?"

Pushing up on one elbow Harrison gazed down at the man he loved. "I guess you must love me, if you're going to trust me to cook."

He sprang out of bed and headed for the kitchen before Ironhorse could protest his slip or Harrison's choice of food.

Ironhorse brushed the close cut curls down over the tiny transmitter dot he had concealed carefully in Harrison's hair. He stepped back, regarding the taller man closely, then switched his gaze to Sergeant Derriman. They were both wearing. Army-type clothing, a little tattered and worn. A dark bruise, put there deliberately by Ironhorse, darkened Derriman's left cheek. Harrison hadn't shaved that morning, a rough shadow already giving him a scruffy look Ironhorse nodded.

"You'll pass."

"But would our mother's approve?” Harrison quipped.

Derriman smiled; Ironhorse scowled.

"Sergeant, go finish loading the car, and double check the backup transmitters."

"Yes, sir."

If Derriman gave his commander a searching look, Ironhorse didn't notice it the older man disappeared into the cold winter day, leaving Paul and Harrison alone.

Ironhorse stood very stiffly in front of his team leader, for the first time wondering about the sanity of becoming involved with someone at a time when either of their lives could be forfeited any moment. He let a slight smile reach his face, white man's thoughts.

"Paul,” Harrison's deep voice cut into his self-examination.

He looked up into turquoise eyes that seemed to immediately know his thoughts and soul. It took every bit of West Point training he could manage not to take the man in his arms and never let go. But he only relaxed into the 'at ease' position.

Clearing his throat, he said evenly, "The microphone shouldn’t be detectable, even if the aliens have scanners The warrants for you and Derriman should be hitting the news and police reports sometime around mid-day. I've made sure..."

"Paul."

"...that the FBI plant in the Tacoma branch of the AN is completely briefed on..."

"Paul."

Ironhorse frowned up at him.

"Thank you for last night."

A smile leaked through his soldier's barriers. "I didn't do much."

"We were together,” Harrison said simply.

Paul's heart tightened at the love in the deep voice. He swallowed, fearful, that Harrison would hug him in front of Derriman. But the scientist just smiled, gripping his shoulder tightly. 

"Ready, sir,” Derriman said from behind them.

Ironhorse let his hand drop slowly, not ashamed of the show of camaraderie, Harrison nodded, a quick, positive movement, then he was gone, moving toward the car.

"Colonel,” Derriman said.

Ironhorse turned.

"Don't worry, sir,” the veteran said with a confident smile. “I’ll take care of him."

Despite the slight surprise brought by the statement, it made Ironhorse feel better.

"Thank you, Sergeant."

“And I'm telling you assholes,” Derriman said hotly, "that we are supposed to be here."

One of the men in front of them brought up an automatic rifle, leveling it at Derriman, who managed to slide in front of Harrison.

“And I said, I don't give a damn who sent you,” the man replied harshly. “We don't take guests. Now get the fuck away from the gate."

Ignoring Derriman's glare Harrison pushed up next to him, hands raised in appeasement. “Look, will you at least check with Butler. The Church leader in Tacoma, Mr. Veritan, contacted him."

That stilled the man for a moment. “Reynolds," he called over his shoulder. “Get the commander on the phone."

Harrison watched Derriman roll his eyes at the pseudo-military jargon. Playing the part of nervous waiting wasn't difficult. Ten minutes later, Reynolds returned and whispered something to the cold-eyed man keeping them covered. The man nodded, lowering his gun.

The gate slid partially open. “Up against the gate."

Derriman cursed loudly, a tactic that managed to distract Harrison from the rough hands that started the search with his hair. The search was rougher than necessary but over quickly.

They were spun around and the man with the rifle demanded, “Which of you is Derriman?"

"Me."

The gun motioned vaguely. “Blackwood?"

"Yes."

The gate clanked, slid back further. “Come ahead."

They entered slowly, keeping their hands clear Harrison took a quick glance around, a habit he had learned from too many tight calls with the colonel. A seven foot electrified chain-link fence, topped with razor wire, stretched into the woods in either direction. Besides the two guards walking in front of them, two more stood casually inside the stone gate house, rifles resting in the crook of their arms.

"So,” the man questioned with a smile, "you're the two that everyone’s hot after."

Derriman took the lead. “That's between Butler and us."

The man's smile didn't waver as he pointed to a jeep. They climbed in and he gunned the engine. “Killing three niggers wouldn't get you welcome at most places, but around here it makes you two fucking heroes."

As easily as that, they were in. Looking back at the sunlight woods through the steel wire, Harrison hoped that getting out would be as easy.

"This is beyond scary,” Harrison mumbled to Derriman as they entered the chapel.

It was a wonderful little building made out of white stone, polished wooden pews giving the inside a dark, cool look. At the altar a large wood cross stood at solemn attention. But what had taken Harrison's attention, what had demanded his horrified comment was the stained glass window that covered the wall behind the altar. The window's reds, blues and yellows glowed in the rising sun - the black swastika dominating the center of the piece offering a frightening contrast to the bright, beautiful colors.

Harrison studied the window, wondering again at the insanity mankind was capable of. Thoughts of Norton's courage, Suzanne’s compassion and Ironhorse's love overrode the momentary depression.

"Gentlemen, welcome to the Church of Jesus Christ Christian.”. A deep, smooth voice spoke from a door near the altar.

The man was dressed in an immaculate uniform, black shirt highlighted by the red broken crosses on his shelves. He was tall, thin, with dark brown hair and an obvious sense of presence. He joined them near the entrance, extending his hand to Blackwood first.

"You're Blackwood.” It wasn't a question. “And Derriman."

"You are?”. Blackwood asked bluntly.

"Major Fretter I'm assistant pastor here."

Harrison forced a believable heartfelt sigh out. “Very glad to meet you, sir."

The man chuckled. “I'll bet you are."

Putting a hand on each of their shoulders, he started them out. “The process to get your ID's and arrange transport will take three or four days. Meanwhile, there's a small house on the edge of the compound that we'll let you use. There's a gun range, a common room in the bunkhouse and, of course, the church. We offer services every day at 1900 and on Sunday at 1000."

They came out into the bright sunlight Harrison had to resist the urge to sigh in relief. He also had to stop himself from flinching under the hand that was still on his shoulder. Fretter pointed toward a house partially hidden behind a large barn that was now used to house cars.

"We've moved your van into the barn any place you aren’t allowed is posted. Make yourselves at home."

He moved off toward the main house, waving at several men that were carrying rifles Derriman led the way toward the house.

“When we get to the house,” Derriman reminded. Blackwood, "I’ll need to set up the jammer before we talk."

Glancing at his watch, Harrison said, for the Colonel's benefit, “Nothing so far our next chance is probably going to be supper. Unless we want to snoop around now."

Derriman shook his head. “Look too suspicious to start roaming around this late. We're supposed to have just come in from an all-night drive. Let's just chill out until tonight."

"You hear that, Colonel,” Harrison said softly. “We’re going to chill out."

Derriman had rather rudely refused to go the morning service; Harrison wished he had the sermon had sounded... Harrison couldn’t quiet find a word for it. There had been hymns sung, the. Bible quoted and the minister had given a real fire and brimstone sermon. But instead of the "you're going to hell" variety, this one was "they're going to hell and we're going to send them."

There had been a new snow during the early hours, leaving a clean white covering over the grounds. Harrison stopped to admire the beauty, and regain his thoughts. His mind slipped back to that day of horror when the aliens had attacked LA another set of pictures flickered in on top of those, older ones from places with foreign names - Dachau, Bataan, Wounded Knee, Johannsberg.

As much as he hated the aliens, as much as the aliens hated humans, it was somehow easier to understand their motives. With a slight frown he admitted, or maybe it was just that he didn’t want to understand how humans could do that to each other.

A hand touched his arm and he jumped.

"Sorry, man." He turned to find a tall, gangly kid with bright red hair standing next to him. “Guess you're a little jumpy."

Harrison smiled. “A little."

"I saw you at the service.”. Almost shyly, he stuck a pamphlet out to Harrison. “You seemed moved by it so I thought you might want to do a little more reading."

Accepting the small booklet, Harrison nodded. “Thank you."

"Think your friend would like a copy?"

"I don't think so.” Harrison shook his head. “He's not very religious."

"No problem. You wanna talk later, that would be great. We don’t see too many new people in the compound. Name’s Jimmy."

Harrison shook his hand. “Thanks, Jimmy."

The boy bounced away, obviously pleased with his new covert. The very normalcy of the man's reactions and his enthusiasm for his cause sent Harrison's already tottering mood sliding into depression.

He turned to head for the cabin, and nearly collided with three men, dressed in expensive suits, with dark glasses and briefcases.. A familiar warning tingled along his neck, snaked down his back. He forced his voice to sound normal.

"Sorry."

The three looked at each other then the one he had almost hit said, "No problem."

They continued toward the main house, but not before Harrison saw a single sore on the neck of one of the men. Harrison walked toward the cabin, detouring toward the barn long enough to watch Fretter met the three men at the door. They all shook hands and the phony major gestured the men in. Very calmly, Harrison walked to find Derriman. His momentary depression retreated under the adrenaline of discovery.

"Colonel,” he whispered, being very careful that no one saw him talking to himself, "I believe we have contact."

"Is that confirmed?” Ironhorse asked levelly.

"'Fraid so, Colonel.” Norton told him. “The last transmission was twenty minutes ago and triangulates perfectly with Harrison's location."

"It also fits with the arrival of those three 'businessmen' Harrison spotted,” Ironhorse sighed. “From the welcome they got, it looks like cooperation."

"How can we be sure of that?” Suzanne's voice questioned over the set. “Suppose they're trying to work some kind of deal without letting the AN know what they really are?"

"It's possible,” Ironhorse agreed. He wanted to believe that. It was easier than thinking that there could be people that blinded by hate. “I have Omega on it. Long range surveillance. Once those guys leave, they'll be followed. That may give us a better idea of what is going on."

"What do we do in the meantime?” Suzanne requested.

"You keep monitoring." Ironhorse was thoughtful for a moment. He had to struggle to keep the smile out of his voice. “I’m going fishing."

He swore he could hear two sets of eyebrows go up.

"Boy," Jimmy said in awe, "you really are good at this."

Harrison's smile was almost real. The fake reports that had gone out on him and Derriman had contained enough truth to let them be at ease with subjects they knew Jimmy now sat across the old Formica table watching in fascination as Harrison explained the best way to make a better Molotov cocktail. He had balked at first, not wanting to give information to the enemy, but Derriman had calmly pointed out that he had no good reason not to answer the question if asked and would just have to do his best not to give too much away.

Sitting back, Harrison stretched, casting a quick glance toward the three men at one of the other tables. They seemed to spend all their time either in the dinner area or on the range; so far at least.

“Harrison,” Jimmy called his attention back. “Do you know any good way to set a delayed bomb on a car?"

Derriman came in at that moment and nodded toward Harrison to take a break. Harrison glanced at his watch. "No more today Jimmy. Let's go outside. I understand it's a nice day."

"Oh yeah,” the younger man said. “Sorry to take all your time up. I guess you have better things to do than answer my questions."

"Oh, I don't mind,” Harrison said with false cheerfulness. "Maybe more tomorrow."

They pushed away from the table and walked into the bright sunlight. There was still a few inches of snow on the ground and dark clouds on the horizon that promised more for the next day. The beauty of the ice on evergreens, the white perfection that covered the mud of the compound contrasted sharply with the small groups of men walking by on their way to the range, or to lectures on the top ten list of enemies that had to be taken care of. The dichotomy started a deep ache in Harrison chest.

"How did you get involved in this, Jimmy?” The question was out before Harrison thought about it.

Fortunately, the man beside him took it in a completely different way. He smiled cheerfully.

"Just lucky Reverend. Butler doesn't take in very many, as you know.” Straightening in pride, he said, "I was arrested for beating up a couple of niggars in my college class. It wasn’t fair that those darkies got to go to college on my tax dollar. But I got expelled. I joined the local. AN and told the unit leader that I wanted to get into the heavy action as soon as possible. After they cleared me, I did a little around home, minor stuff, and then two months ago got sent here."

Harrison had listened in horrified disgust, wearing a fake smile the entire time. When he realized that Jimmy had finished, he nodded.

"When are they going to let you loose?” he asked.

"Fretter says soon. They have something big coming up in a couple of weeks.” Hopefully, Jimmy added, "I want to be in on that."

Curiosity forced Harrison to ask, “Any idea of what it is?"

Jimmy frowned and Harrison knew he had overstepped his bounds. Recovering quickly, he held up his hand. “Never mind. I shouldn’t have asked."

Jimmy smiled, relieved that Harrison had seen the error of his question. They had reached Harrison's cabin. As he started in, Jimmy touched his arm.

"Harrison, tomorrow, if you get a chance could you tell me something?"

Warily, Harrison said, "If I can."

Like an eager child, Jimmy looked up through sparkling light blue eyes. “What's it like to kill a niggar?"

The line sailed smoothly out pass the edge of ice and landed lightly in the blue water. Ironhorse adjusted his baseball cap to block the glare of the just now rising sun. Harrison's discovery had prompted him to close the distance to the target cross the narrow lake, Omega had moved to within two miles of the Hayden Compound, disguised as part of a cross-country ski team, their cover helped by the fact that it made the local paper.

For himself, two miles had been too far. He wanted to be there immediately if anything went wrong. And, he admitted only to himself, he wanted to get to Harrison as soon as possible. He had heard the questions the boy named Jimmy had been asking, had heard the depression creeping slowly and surely into Harrison’s deep voice. This mission was getting to the doctor in more ways than either of them had planned.

The fact that the lake was public ground and the sight of several fishermen in town had given Ironhorse the idea; his current fishing spot put him less than half a mile from the back part of the ranch.

The crunch of tires on icy rocks took Ironhorse's attention away from the thoughts of his lover. He touched his right ear, making sure the tiny receiver was safely hidden before casually casting his line out again. It was the only piece of equipment on him, except for the knife tucked in his boot.

A grimy, green four-wheel drive crawled over the last of the trail and parked next to his rented van. Ironhorse reeled in his line. Smiling, he started toward his visitors, reminding himself that it could just as easily be locals or other fishermen as the enemy. It calmed his sense of paranoia when only two men climbed out.

The driver was shorter than Ironhorse, only 5'9" or so, with dark brown hair sticking out from under a Yankees ball cap. He was fair, looked to be 50 or so, though the cigarette hanging from his mouth probably made him look older. The other man was younger, maybe only 22 to 25. His tall, youthful look was topped with a stock of bright red hair that stood uncovered in the new sun. They were both wearing heavy jackets against the near freezing temperatures. They walked toward him, pulling the coast little tighter.

"Good morning,” he said cheerfully.

"Morning,” the red-haired one returned. “Little early and cold to be fishing, ain't it?"

Ironhorse shrugged, still smiling. “Friend of mine said that’s the best time to catch fish up here."

"Caught much?"

“Just one.” The older man was silent, moving toward Ironhorse's vehicle. "But I've only been here a little while."

The man circled the vehicle, then joined his companion. "Nice van,” he commented. “Rental?"

The smile that Ironhorse gave them this time was real. He had seen the man check out the license plate. “No. Loaner. Picked it up from a friend of mine in Chatolet."

"Nice knife, too,” Red remarked.

"Thank you,” Ironhorse said calmly, though alarms were starting to go off in his mind. “Picked it up in the Army."

Without warning, Red stepped forward and leaned toward the knife. Ironhorse stepped back, smile fading. The older man shook his head.

"The boy just wanted to take a look, Mister...what was your name?"

The alarms cut off, were replaced with cold logic. Ironhorse knew he was in trouble. Whether they were.AN or not, he still wasn’t sure but either way they were obviously looking for a fight.

"Look, gentlemen,” he said quietly, "I don't want any trouble."

The older man's eyes had gone deadly cold and his smile matched it. Ironhorse watched the younger one start to move around, to get behind him.

"No one wants any trouble,” the driver said. “We just want to know what an Injun... maybe a Spic, is doing this close to our back door?"

Still trying to hold on to his cover, Ironhorse ground his teeth together. “What the hell are you talking about? Look, I checked, this is National Forest land, and I'm allowed to fish here and I prefer to do it alone so get the hell..."

Red lunged at him or at least he tried to, Ironhorse stepped back, went down with the man's weight, tossed him over his head and into the frozen ground. Ironhorse was on his feet just as the second man closed. A quick punch put him next to his companion. Red gained his knees; Ironhorse kicked him, knocking him out. The older man was more experienced, rolling away then getting to his feet.

The man's right hand went into his jacket but Ironhorse grabbed his left, threw him in a tight circle and was rewarded with a sharp crack from the wrist he was holding. The man yelled and Ironhorse released the twisted arm to let him scramble away, clutching his injured hand. Ironhorse closed, yanked open his coat, snatched out the weapon and toss it into the lake. Keeping his eyes on the older one, he backed to Red and repeated the action, only this time keeping the gun.

"Now,” Ironhorse ordered quietly, "I'm leaving. I may or may not decide to come back. If I do, I don't expect any trouble. Next time, I may not be so considerate."

Holding the gun in clear sight, he gathered his fishing gear, tossed it in the side of the van. The driver gained his feet, still holding his wrist; Red moaned but remained out. Ironhorse opened the driver's door.

A shot slammed into the metal on his right side. He dodged toward the safety of the interior - and another bullet grooved the door to his left.

"Drop it! Or the next one's dead center!” A hard voice commanded from the trees.

Ironhorse took one quick glance toward the interior again, then dropped the gun, raising his hands slowly. A man, rifle trained on him, emerged from the woods. The driver joined him, staying slightly behind as they approached. The new man was taller than the other two, going to paunch but still muscled enough to be a serious threat. His blue eyes burned with unconcealed hate. Ironhorse was almost glad to see it; it was a human hate that met his eyes.

He took a slow, deep breath as the men drew closer. He had made a serious error in judgment; he had underestimated the human part of their equation. The first fist lashed out toward him. He rolled with it, sagging back against the frosted metal, accepting it as punishment for his mistake. A blow caught him in the stomach, taking his breath away.

"Stop playing with him,” the new man ordered.

He caught sight of the gun barrel as it swung toward his head. A streak of lightening went off over his right eye. He was on the ground, blinking against the too bright light that alternated with blotches of black. A boot slammed against his ribs . The last thought he had before the darkness became complete was the hope that Harrison wouldn't also pay for his mistake. 

"What do you think?” Blackwood questioned Derriman as they left the mess after breakfast.

Ahead of them, Fretter was escorting the three aliens toward the shooting range. Whatever news the aliens had returned with had pleased Fretter. His smile was making Harrison very nervous.

"I think, sir,” Derriman said loudly enough for Ironhorse topic up on the remote. “That we should watch them until our ‘papers' come through, get the hell out of Dodge and then send in the Cavalry."

"Gosh, I just love that kind of talk,” Harrison said drily. More seriously, he added, "Storming this place with only three aliens present is going to be hard to justify."

"Maybe.” The heavy Sergeant stared over at him. “But do you want to wait until more show up?"

"I could learn to like your plan, John."

"Morning!” A cheerful voice called from the converted barn.

Harrison turned to find Jimmy waving at him. When he waved back the man's motion became one of beckoning. He cast a quick glance at Derriman. After cautiously scanning the area around the building, Derriman nodded and they changed direction.

There was a serious look in Jimmy's eyes. He led them into the darkness of the barn. Two other men stood inside, one near a green truck. Approaching cautiously, both team members kept a check for signs of anything alien.

"Harrison, John,” Jimmy did the introductions. "This is Sid and. Al."

Blackwood shook Sid's offered hand, noting that Al's right wrist was in a makeshift brace Derriman ignored the offer, looking like someone who didn't want to even try to be social.

"What do you want?” Derriman demanded.

"We need your help; you guys being ex-army and all." Jimmy’s voice was high with excitement.

"We don't want the commander to know anything about this situation until we have a better handle on it,” Sid explained.

"Details,” Derriman growled. "I ain't got all day."

Harrison only smiled. “Oh, don't listen to John. He's just little grumpy this morning."

Jimmy laughed, slapping Harrison on the shoulder. “Come on, we got something back here for you to take a look at."

They walked through to the back of the barn, to what had been the tack room. There was a sliding door, but no windows.

"Should have got breakfast first,” Derriman grumbled.

"This guy’s been hanging around town a couple of days." Jimmy paused at the door. “Then we found him out at the lake. We wanted to ask him a few questions."

"Only he didn't want to cooperate,” Sid explained. “Jimmy said he heard you talking about some of the tricks you learned in'Nam."

Harrison came into the room - and his eyes connected with familiar onyx in a bruised and bloodied face. Recognition and fear filled Ironhorse's expression. Frozen, Harrison could only stare, every muscle quivering against the urge to rush forward and aid his friend. Behind him he heard Derriman take a quick breath.

"Holy shit!” The Sergeant managed to turn the exclamation into a statement of hate rather than surprise. “An Injun!"

Still stunned by the strange turn of events, Harrison watched helplessly as. Al stepped forward and backhanded Ironhorse, snapping his head back. “Damn bastard nearly broke my wrist."

Derriman leaned back, crossing his arms. “Look, I’m perfectly willing to have a little fun with this son of a bitch what makes you think he's got anything to tell us?"

The other three hesitated. “Well,” Jimmy spoke up, "he was carrying this, and we found this under the seat in his jeep.” He handed Harrison Ironhorse's knife and Beretta. “And he was awfully good at fighting."

The big soldier laughed, retrieving the knife from Harrison. “No wonder Shit, that's a Special Forces weapon."

“Army?” Sid demanded.

"Maybe, maybe ex. Did you find any ID?"

"Just a driver's license,” Sid supplied, handing it over. “Paul Ironhorse."

With a smile that chilled Harrison's blood, Derriman knelt in front of Ironhorse, touching the edge of the knife against the dark throat, pressing down until he drew a thin line of blood. "Injuns are supposed to take a lot of punishment without yelling. Why don't we find out?"

The sight of Derriman deliberately drawing blood jolted Harrison out of his rigid silence. He knew what they needed -time.

"Get out,” he ordered lowly.

"God damn, if he's Army...” Al started.

Derriman sprang up and grabbed the man. "My friend said get-out. You want info - no problem but we do it our way. Now fuck off."

He released the man, straightened the rumbled coat. With a frightening smile, added, "Don't worry. We'll leave enough for you to play with later."

The low voice and hate filled smile made Al laugh. Jimmy grinned a little shakily, held out the Beretta to Derriman.

"You may want this."

Holding up the knife, Derriman shook his head. "I prefer this."

"Yell for us,” Al told Harrison, "When you're done with him."

They left. Harrison moved, never even hearing Derriman bolt the door behind him.

"Dear God, Paul.” He reached for the ropes that were cutting into Ironhorse's wrists. “What the hell happened?"

"Harrison, stop,” Ironhorse ordered.

Harrison was shaking so hard he couldn't untie the sharp hemp. Strong hands grabbed his upper arms.

"Dr. Blackwood,” Derriman said quietly. “We'll only have to re-tie him if they come back in."

Harrison looked up, jerking away from the hard grip, but he let go of the cruel restraints. Helplessness flooded him; he wanted to pull Paul to him, wanted to hold him to ease his pain and -could only look up into black eyes filled with worry for him. His hand started up toward Paul's bleeding cheek, but he diverted it to a shoulder, squeezed gently.

"We have to get you out of here." He scanned the small room.

"I've already looked, Doctor,” Ironhorse said levelly. “There’s only one door and no windows. Even if there was a way out, we couldn't fight our way through all of them."

Fear turned Harrison's voice sharp. “What the hell are we going to do?"

"You're going to go into that corner,” Ironhorse said quietly, "pull out that stupid tuning fork and ignore everything you hear in this room while you figure out a way to get me loose."

Something in the rough voice sent a chill up Harrison's back. He glanced up at Derriman Despite the cold that colored their words, Derriman had taken off his coat. His belt was in his hand and he had one shelve rolled up, obviously intending to let his arm serve in Ironhorse's place as much as possible. The reality of what was about to happen hit Harrison like a fist. He looked back at Ironhorse, started to protest.

"We have to stall,” Ironhorse cut him off. “And we can’t fake it all."

"It won't be nearly as bad as we'll make it sound,” Derriman assured him.

"It better not be,” Ironhorse quipped.

“And I promise to be careful with the knife, Colonel," Derriman said softly. “I know the... ladies don't go for the piratical look these days."

Ironhorse smiled at his top sergeant but Harrison saw the pain in both pair of dark eyes. He desperately wanted to argue, but knew they were right. He looked back at Ironhorse. Dark bruises covered one cheek, his right eye was swelling badly, there was blood dried along his lips and fresh blood running down his chin.

"You look terrible,” Harrison said hoarsely.

He reached up and wiped the blood off Paul's chin. It was the only gesture he allowed himself. The simple touch carrying more love than any words could.

Paul's eyes glittered in the dim light, returning the love. Lopsided smile curled the right side of his mouth.

"Go.” The whispered word caressed Harrison's tattered nerves.

He stood, walked to the corner, and settled into a lotus position, ready to ease his mind away from the claustrophobic room. The first slap of leather against Derriman's arm didn’t faze him, nor the second. Then came flesh against flesh and the groan that wasn't completely faked. The next blow started tears down his cheeks, for Paul, for Derriman, for himself.

"Doctor?"

Slowly, Harrison wiped a sleeve across his eyes, trying to give the impression of having just awakened. It would only cause Paul more pain to know that he had heard each blow, each cry of pain, real and exaggerated. He looked up at Derriman, and saw that his attempt had not fooled the other man. As he came to his feet, the bigger man stopped him from turning.

"Sir,” Derriman said apologetically, "it's really not as bad as it looks."

Harrison took a short breath, holding the deep brown eyes. He nodded and Derriman slid out of his way.

There was blood everywhere, soaking Ironhorse's shirt, splattered on his jeans, shining in the raven hair. The eye was swollen shut now and under the blood was a bruise on the other cheek anger overwhelmed him. He whirled.

"God dammit! What the hell did you do to him? How far..."

"Harrison.” Ironhorse spoke softly through split lips.

That cut his diatribe cold. He landed on his knees at the man’s side. Paul smiled crookedly at him, winching at the blood it brought to his lips.

"It's not as bad as it looks,” he repeated what Derriman had said. “The cuts aren't deep and the blood is smeared around."

Harrison touched Paul's cold hand, biting his lip.

“Doctor,” Derriman started.

Harrison looked up, interrupting the heavy Sergeant. “I’m sorry, John. I know you wouldn't deliberately harm Paul."

"Oh, there have been times,” Derriman said, trying to smile. “Do you have an idea?"

Turning back to the Colonel, Harrison said quietly, "Yes. “Without conscious thought, his hand stroked cold sweat soaked hair. “We're going to have to let them kill you."

“Are you sure?”. Al asked skeptically.

Derriman cut him a hard look, pointed to Ironhorse's slumped form. “Take a look at him, and tell me he's lying! He. Was. Fishing."

Sensing the danger in pushing the bigger man, Al relented, stepping back.

"Okay,” Sid said placidly. “Let's dump him before someone finds out."

"We'll take care of it,” Harrison said firmly. The next few minutes were crucial to the plan.

"We'll all go,”. Al said.

Harrison glanced at Ironhorse. This was not part of the plan. One dark eyebrow went up, telling him to keep trying.

"Ya'll go on,” Derriman said. “But all four of you leaving goings to look awful obvious. Besides, I'm hungry.” He kicked Ironhorse's leg. "I left you enough to play with."

"You're right,” Sid said. “All of us leaving would be bad. Major Fretter's wouldn't like finding out we brought him here."

Al laughed. “Yeah, he would say we should have killed him out there."

"Jimmy and I will do it,” Harrison again spoke up. “You and Sid got to rough him up. I think Jimmy should have his chance."

The younger man gave him a huge, hero-worshipping grin Harrison's insides crawled; outwardly, he smiled.

The other two exchanged glances. Al frowned. “I never killed a blanket head before."

"Let the kid have him,” Sid agreed.

“Just get on with it,” Derriman urged.

Without waiting for a response the Sergeant jerked Ironhorse roughly up and slung him over his shoulder. They exited into the main building and Jimmy pointed to a camouflaged jeep. Blackwood opened the hatch and Derriman threw Ironhorse in, ignoring his moan He tossed a dirty blanket over him.

Al passed the keys to Jimmy.

"Here,” Derriman held out Ironhorse's Beretta to Harrison. “Get rid of it with the body. Try the north end of the lake."

Harrison wasted no time, climbing in and opening the driver’s door Jimmy slid in eagerly, gunned the motor and waved as they started out.

They were delayed at the gate as a three-ton truck rolled through first. Harrison's concentration was wholly centered on their hostage in the back; he didn't notice the three familiar, suited men in the truck's driver’s seat.

Bright sunlight danced on the choppy water. Harrison was first around the back of the jeep, flipping the blanket off the still form Ironhorse's eyes were open, at least one, and Harrison felt his courage for the plan falter, protectiveness shaking him.

"You can do this,” Ironhorse whispered.

Harrison swallowed, grabbed his lover by the ankles and drug him out to land hard on the frozen ground. Ironhorse groaned, pushed himself up on his knees. Jimmy came around the jeep, gun out, aiming dead center for Ironhorse's head. The soldier flinched back.

"Not yet!" Harrison shoved the gun up.

Jimmy looked confused but not alarmed. “Why not?"

Harrison smiled, hoping he didn't look as sick as he felt. “Where’s the sport in that?"

Leaning over, Ironhorse he used the colonel's knife to cut the bonds, refusing to notice the bloody wrists. Ironhorse brought his arms around, paling at the shock of returning circulation.

In a voice as cold as his surroundings, Harrison taunted, “Think you can out run us, buck?"

Ironhorse glared, struggling to his feet by using the bumper as support. “Try me,” he said hoarsely.

With a quick nod toward Jimmy, Harrison gestured Ironhorse toward the woods. Ironhorse glanced between the two of them and with a sudden move pushed away, zigzagging pass Harrison and sprinting for the lake. Jimmy stepped forward.

"Go for a leg first,” Harrison urged.

Jimmy smiled; aiming carefully at the retreating figure. He fired twice. Ironhorse staggered but stayed on his feet. The slippery rocks hindered him, robbing his traction.

"Better just let him have the whole clip,” Harrison suggested. “He's getting out of range."

Nodding, Jimmy squeezed the trigger down. Despite knowing the clip was loaded with blanks, despite knowing that it was all planned, despite Omegas presence less than a mile away, Harrison's heart faltered as Paul went painfully to his knees then fell face forward into the near freezing water.

"Yes!” Jimmy cheered. "Got the bastard!"

Controlling his breathing with difficulty, Harrison slapped him on the back. “Good shooting. Let's get the hell out of here; someone may have heard the shot.” He gestured to the gun. “Get rid of that."

"Shouldn't we check him?” Jimmy questioned.

Harrison shook his head. “No need. If the shots didn't kill him, the cold water will."

Jimmy nodded, drew back and hurled the gun as far out over the dark water as he could Harrison watched it arc through the crystal blue sky, raise silver drops as it splashed down Ironhorse would regret the loss. He cast a quick glance toward the perfectly still body floating in the shallow water; he forced his fists to unclench and walked toward the truck's door.

Two shots sounded in the crisp air Harrison whirled. Jimmy was aiming a large old revolver at Ironhorse, smoke pouring from the barrel. Harrison lunged, stopping himself at the last minute.

"Jimmy!” he snapped. "Let's go!"

Reluctantly, Jimmy shoved the gun back into his coat. Afraid to look at the still body, Harrison forced himself into the truck. Jimmy started whistling, thumped Harrison on the knee.

"Good job, huh!"

Harrison could only nod, unable to find his voice. Reaching over, he turned on the heater, knowing as he did that it would do nothing against the chill settling around his soul.

Major Fretter waved them to a stop as they moved toward the barn. Jimmy stiffened, looked worried. But when they pulled to a stop Fretter smiled, much to both of their relief.

"Good news, Harrison,” he told them. “We'll be ready to move you and John tomorrow morning."

"Great,” Harrison managed. “We'll be ready."

Churning through the snow, they pulled to a stop in the dark barn. Harrison climbed out, the darkness closing around him not just that of the interior. He started to walk toward his cabin tentative hand touched his upper arm. Shaking himself away from the darkness, he turned.

"Hey, you okay?” Jimmy asked in concern.

"Oh, yeah, sorry.” He explained lamely, "Leaving tomorrow. I’m just relieved, a little dazed I guess that everything came together so soon."

"Yeah. Well, I'm glad you're getting out of here but I’ll miss having you around." Jimmy looked proudly at him. "Hey, maybe you could talk to Fretter. This big thing is going down soon, maybe you could join us."

Throwing open the door, Harrison took a very deep breath of the clean, cold air. He had to get to Derriman, had to hear that Jimmy probably missed, had to get back to the real world, to the battles that somehow made more sense than the red-haired kid beside him. He had to know that the man he loved was still alive.

"Yeah, maybe. I'll have to think about it."

Jimmy slapped his arm. “Well, think about it. I'll see you at supper."

He didn't hear the man leave.

A few steps later he reached for the doorknob of the assigned house. The door was snatched open in front of him and Derriman nearly slammed into him on his way out.

"Jesus, Doctor,” Derriman whispered intensely. He grabbed Harrison’s arm and pulled him inside, closed the door. “What happened?"

Trying to get himself under control, Harrison sat down. “It worked, except... Jimmy had another gun."

Derriman paled. “The Colonel?"

"I don't know. After Paul went into the lake... Jimmy did some target practice.” Harrison's voice grew progressively hoarser. He sagged forward, let his head rest behind his hands. “I couldn't get to him. Oh, God... I don't know if he's dead or alive."

"Harrison,” Derriman said quietly.

The use of his first name, after two years of knowing each other, called Harrison away from his fear. He dropped his hands, found Derriman kneeling in front of him, compassion etched on the lined face.

"Don't count the Colonel out,” the older man told him. "I’ve seen him go into situations that no one expected him to come out of.” Smiling, he added, "I've never told him this, but personally, I think it's that medicine bag."

Harrison nodded after a minute, accepting the comfort he had sought.

"Doc,” Derriman frowned. “I've got some more bad news for you. Those three guns are back. And they brought two half-tons in with them. Fretter met them and they moved the trucks into the back of the compound."

The emotional storm swirling around him gained a new twist, curiosity. “Jimmy said there was a big job coming up."

"Trainees maybe,” Derriman suggested.

Harrison took a sharp breath. “But we both know that aliens don’t have to train. Not when they can just take over an already trained body."

"I know that, and you know that,” Derriman tried to say lightly, "but Fretter doesn't know that."

Harrison saw the worry that Derriman was trying to cover; if Derriman was worried, it was time to leave. He took one look around the spartan cabin, then stood up.

"In your words, Sergeant, let's get the hell out of Dodge.” He led the way toward the door. “Jimmy and I didn't have any trouble getting out."

"Hell, we'll probably met the Colonel coming in," Derriman said, but there was a trace of doubt in the deep voice. It didn’t help when he added, under his breath, "I wish we'd kept the Colonel's Beretta."

There was a light snow falling when they came out of the cabin but luck, momentarily, was with them and no one stopped them as they walked across the open area. The edge of fear kept Harrison moving but when Derriman started the van, a strange calm claimed him, Harrison didn't notice anything beyond the flapping wipers; all he could see, flash frozen in his memory, was Paul, face down in the sparkling water.

"Jesus, Paul..."

"Sir!"

He jumped, unaware that he had spoken out loud. Glancing at Derriman he said hoarsely, "Sorry."

As they neared the front gates though, all his senses sent up danger signals.

"John,” Harrison said lowly.

"I know.” Derriman nodded that he didn't need an explanation. The man at the front gate had a suit and dark glasses.

The van slowed to a stop, and Derriman leaned out. “We’re going into town to pick up some supplies for our trip."

"No one leaves,” the nearest man said bluntly. "New orders."

Derriman started to protest but Harrison cleared his throat loudly. “No problem. Wasn't anything important."

Relenting, Derriman backed the van, swung around and drove directly to the cabin. The snow had slowed, only a few large flakes floating gently on the breeze. Near the main house several of the men had started a football game.

"What now?” Harrison questioned softly.

With a sigh, Derriman caught his gaze, eyes hard and determined. “Now, Doctor, we're going to the shooting range and get ourselves some weapons."

For a split second automatic protest rose in Harrison’s thoughts, but was washed out by a strange sense of apathy. He no longer cared about weapons or aliens or the bigots around him. He only wanted to go somewhere dark and quiet and mourn his loss. But a story told in the warmth of a shared first bed came back to him, reminded him of fallen warrior and honor. He met the determined gaze of the man next to him, remembered the same look in a pair of ebony eyes.

"There's too many to keep out of the weapons room,” he said levelly.

"Yes, sir,” Derriman agreed. “That's why once we have the arms; we're going out the front gate and hightailing it for Omega. Then we'll come back and kick ass."

Harrison nodded. “You'll have to tell me what to ask for."

Reflexes cut through the darkness and Ironhorse flinched away from the pain that flared across his temple. He tried to raise his hand to stop the stinging but something was holding him down. He started to struggle.

"Colonel! Sir!"

One eye snapped open, the roof of the van meeting his gaze. Stavarkos and Coleman were holding him down. He glanced to his left at Corpsman Jimison who was trying to put a butterfly patch on the cut over his temple. With a rush of exhaustion he fallback, sighing. They released him, and someone replaced the blanket he had dislodged. He vaguely realized that he was shaking, tremors running along his limbs and rattling his teeth. Memories crashed in around him.

He sat up, ignoring the offers of help, refusing to flush at the fact that he had been stripped to his shorts.

“Time,” he demanded.

"1300,” Coleman informed him. “You've been out about an hour, sir."

"We found you walking in this direction about 1200. You fainted just as we reached you,” Stavarkos added.

"Lt. Colonel's don't faint. Remember that, Sergeant,” Ironhorse said drily.

"Yes, sir,” Stavarkos replied in the same tone.

Ironhorse pulled the blanket closer, still shivering. “Receiver, clothes and hot coffee, Sergeant, in that order and all in five minutes."

The three Omegans scrabbled out of the van, in unison said, “Yes, sir."

Seven minutes later the receiver clicked on as Ironhorse finished buttoning the heavy green shirt Static echoed in the cold then cleared to the tinny sound of Harrison's voice saying,

“An assault rifle and a thousand rounds."

Ironhorse straightened in surprise, ignoring the pain that rippled along his ribs and head. “An assault rifle,” he mumbled. It wouldn't be for Harrison, Ironhorse knew that, which meant that Derriman was lying in weapons. Urgency sent more heat through him.

""We're going in,” he ordered. “Remember there are civilians in the area, some of them may fire on us Do your best."

He started for the nearest jeep, staggered. A steady hand caught his arm and he glanced up Coleman stared at him, demanding a protest. He only nodded, accepting her help.

"You drive, Coleman Stavarkos, you will lead first squad. Unit two will follow you in."

Stavarkos looked at him closely. “Where will you be, sir?"

"Where I always..." He caught the concern in the two sergeant’s looks, felt his arm trembling in Coleman's grasp. Harrison and Derriman needed help not dangerous heroics.

And as hard as it was for him to accept, that was not their first concern. "First squad's objective will be to stop the aliens from getting into the weapons storage. You'll go in the main gate. Beta will take out the fence nearest the north part of the compound."

"Yes, sir.” Stavarkos said firmly, but there were still questions in his midnight blue eyes.

"I'll lead in. Beta,” Ironhorse informed him. "We'll back you up and locate Dr. Blackwood and Sergeant Derriman."

He climbed a stiffly into the jeep. Coleman gunned the motor. “Saddle up, Sergeant,” he ordered.

Over the receiver in Ironhorse's hand was the sound of scream, then a shot.

"This way!” Derriman grabbed Harrison's coat, yanking him toward the car barn.

Shouts and screams filled the gray daylight, alternating with gunshots from the direction of the main house. The entrance tithe weapons room was under the house, with the storage area stretching out for a dozen yards in several directions. The two Team members sprinted across the open space, Harrison staying behind Derriman, following his weaving movements.

"Harrison!”. A familiar voice yelled at him.

He kept moving, turning just enough to see Jimmy running toward them. Something slammed into his leg, pain blinding him as he crashed into the packed snow, blood spraying into the white around him. He rolled to a sitting position, shaking hands grasped over a bleeding wound in his thigh. Derriman was beside him, on his knees, firing in the direction Jimmy had been running from the three aliens that had been chasing them went down under a blanket of flying steel.

Someone grabbed him from behind, jerking him up and pulling his arm over a pair of thin, strong shoulders Derriman shoved Jimmy and his burden toward the barn.

"Go! I'll cover you"

There were more screams and out of the corner of his eye Harrison saw the vague shape of an alien in real form closing with cornered human. He didn't see any more as agony shot up his leg, making the world vanish in a whirl of red and black.

More pain brought him around and he cried out as something pressed against his wound. A large hand clamped over his mouth.

"Easy,” Derriman said softly.

Harrison blinked, trying to recognize his surroundings, trying to take his mind off the awkward ministrations Derriman was attempting. With an uncomfortable shiver, he realized that they were hiding in the same room where Ironhorse had been held. Collecting his nerve, he glanced down at his leg Derriman had a strong hand pressed tightly down, but blood, bright red and unending continued to flow between his calloused fingers.

Another figure moved in the tiny room. Jimmy knelt in front of them, offering Derriman his tee shirt. Without looking at the young man, Derriman took the cloth, grabbed Jimmy's wrist and moved his hand to a spot just between Harrison's thigh and groin.

"Press hard,” he ordered.

Harrison groaned at the pressure but the blood slowed to a trickle. Looking grim, Derriman patted his leg. "Hang on, Doc."

Ripping the black tee along one seam, Derriman tied the ends together. Spotting the chair that Ironhorse had been confined in; Derriman flipped it over and with a savage kick snapped one leg off. Slipping the circle of clothe up to just above the wound, he used the thick wood to tighten the tourniquet, judged the tension and removed Jimmy's hand Fresh agony forced a groan from Harrison as new blood flowed as far as the cloth.

"Deep breaths, Doc. It'll help."

After a minute the agony subsided enough to allow. Harrison to take several slow breaths. Shots carried into their darkness.

"What the hell is happening?" Jimmy demanded. “Who's out there?” Terror shook his voice, making it younger.

"I don't know,” Harrison lied easily through clenched teeth. More screams.

"What are they doing to make them scream like that?” Jimmy asked in panic.

"I thought you liked to make people scream?” Derriman asked without looking at the man.

Jimmy was too panicked to catch the irony in Derriman's words. He keep glancing around the room, jumping at every shift of light through the small cracks in the planks Harrison watched through a growing light headedness. The sounds were getting louder, the fighting closing in around them. Jimmy's hand was white around the big revolver. A strange pity touched Harrison; the unknown was always more frightening than the understood; he almost smiled, though in this case that wasn't completely true.

He sagged back, was caught by Derriman's solid arm around his back The big sergeant shifted him gently down, raising his legs, resting them on the tipped over chair. His vision started to darken around the edges, fading into the same damnable scene of a beloved body face down in a crystal lake. Tears tugged at his heart and filled his eyes.

"I wish Paul were here,” he pleaded quietly.

A hesitate, gentle hand wiped the sweat off his forehead. “He will be, Harrison. He will be."

The distance and tinny speaker only served to intensify the sound of Harrison's pain and fear. Ironhorse keep his reaction carefully hidden behind years of training. Or so he thought. Glancing at Coleman, he saw that her eyes were locked on his hand. It was wrapped so tightly around the receiver that he had cracked the plastic casing. She snapped her eyes back to the road.

Switching hands to relieve the tension, Ironhorse picked up the radio. He turned up the gain on the receiver. The background noise had gotten worse, signaling that the fighting was widespread. Another muffled cry of pain sounded faintly over the unit; fear dripped ice into Ironhorse's stomach. Harrison was in there, and he had sent him in. A prayer filtered into his thoughts, calling on the Spirit to protect his lover.

“Alpha to Beta One,” crackled over the radio. “Main gate in sight. We're on our way."

Ironhorse's attention turned to his own squad's attack. The steel fence loomed before them. Coleman pulled aside and the heavy truck plowed down the barrier. She floored it, following the truck until the trees opened into the back of the compound. Ironhorse pointed and they circled around, sliding to a stop behind the cover of one of the cabins. He leapt out, running, the reassuring thud of Jimison and Coleman's boots pounding behind him. They made the next cabin, and two men rounded the corner toward them, running, terrified, from something, guns out.

"Drop them!” Ironhorse screamed, own weapon coming up. “Hands on head!”

There was the slightest hesitation. Ironhorse’s finger tightened on the trigger; weapons dropped soundlessly into the light snow. Coleman jogged forward.

“I’ve got them.” She kicked the guns away, prodded the mentor the ground.

Nodding his thanks, Ironhorse and his corpsman ran on. Rounding the side of the building, they started across, Ironhorse in front. A line of bullets gouged up black dirt under the slush. Jimison grabbed Ironhorse, spun them into the meager safety of a rusty station wagon. Bullets shattered the windows, clanged against the metal Ironhorse peered over the edge of hood, jerked back as several shots whistled off their protection.

Somehow, over the gunfire and screams, over the sound of Jimison’s soft curses, over Stavarkos shouting across the open area, sounds carried over the receiver –the sounds of splintering wood and harsh alien language.

The ice in Ironhorse’s stomach shot through his veins, chilling the heat of the battle. The aliens had beaten him in, they had Harrison – and there was nothing he could do. The sounds signaled an end, not only to their best chance against the aliens but to the completeness he’d found in the man he was being forced to hear die. The prayer echoing in his mind changed became one of revenge against the monster that had taken his love and, if their worst nightmare was a reality, a quick release for Harrison’s soul.

A scream of terror rattled the receiver.. And desperation overrode battle sense.

“Cover me!” he screamed.

“Sir!"

He got almost half-way before the first bullet hit him.

"Derriman!” Harrison screamed hoarsely.

Derriman swung around, weapon up but the alien grabbed his arm, twisting Harrison rolled away, leaving a trail of blood on the rough wood. There was a sharp snap and Derriman was thrown against the wall with a thud. The alien ignored the fallen sergeant, advancing on Harrison.

He tried to crawl further, slammed against the door. In the corner of his vision he saw Jimmy staring in shock at the invader.

"Run, Jimmy!” Harrison commanded harshly.

The blue eyes connected with his, Jimmy's gun came up, three shots thundered in the small space. The alien staggered -whirled and grabbed him by the throat. The deadly third hand came out; plunged into Jimmy's chest. He never had a chance to scream.

Harrison took a deep breath, braced against the wood and pushed himself up, biting his lip against the pain, blood running in streams down his leg. He took one step, went down to his knees. The transfer finished, the entity that once was Jimmy stepped toward him.

The door crashed open, an Uzi rattling in the small room; the alien went down, twitching and foaming as it hit the ground. Harrison watched through fear cleared vision before switching his gaze to the blood spurting from beyond the loosened tourniquet. The adrenaline disappeared under the pain, not even allowing him the energy to look up. He folded over, started to fall. Strong hands caught him, eased him over and down.

He knew without being able to see, knew the touch, the breathing, the love. “Paul?"

"I'm here, Harrison.”. A gentle voice whispered to him.

"Press here, Colonel.”. A new voice instructed.

Stiff fingers went to the point at his thigh that Derriman had held earlier and someone tightened the tourniquet. Harrison got his eyes open, met the shining onyx, one of the beautiful eyes still swollen shut. Relief choked him, made him want to reach out, to touch, to assure himself of the wonderful reality. He wanted to tell Paul everything he'd felt, everything he hoped never to feel again. But there was a soldier on the ground with them, reaching into a field kit Harrison swallowed his thoughts, forced his wandering attention to other concerns.

"Derriman?” Harrison questioned softly.

"Someone's with him,” Ironhorse assured him.

"Hold his leg, sir."

The steady hand on his leg tightened. The intense dark gaze watching him never wavered and Harrison held onto it as a lifeline. He felt a prick and a dull stinging, then gradually the pain faded. Smiling, Harrison blinked against the sudden calm that seemed to float through him.

Ironhorse looked away from him toward where Derriman had gone down. There were words spoken but Harrison's fuzzy hearing didn’t catch them. When Ironhorse looked back at him, a small bit of the concern had faded from his expression.

"Derriman will be okay,” Ironhorse said levelly. “And the area has been secured."

"Sir,” Jimison interrupted, “you can let go now. The wounds closed. The chopper is on the way in. I need to get a backboard for Derriman, sir, just as a precaution."

"Very good, Jimison Thank you."

"Sir,” the corpsman said lowly, "you need to get that shoulder looked..."

"I will, Jimison. When you move Derriman out."

Harrison forced his eyes open; he had known something was wrong. Ironhorse's hand moved off his thigh, rested on his shoulder. There was movement in the room and Harrison knew he was alone with his lover. He reached out, felt his hand taken in blunt fingers.

"You're hurt,” he slurred.

Ironhorse returned the pressure on his hand. “It's nothing. Jimison would have never left otherwise."

The reality of the strong hold pushed strength into Harrison's muscles, released the tears.

"I thought you were dead.” His voice caught, tears tickling his cheeks.

Ironhorse stroked the back of his hand up Harrison's stubble cheek, brushed away the hot tears.

"Come on, Doctor,” Paul said lightly. “It'll take more than a lone bigot to take me out." There was no missing the break in his tone.

The sweet touch only caused Harrison's tears to continue. His vision started to darken. The last thing he saw was the love shining on Paul's face, the last thing he felt was the feather touch of Paul's lips as he drifted into the darkness.

The light knock at the door sent Ironhorse scrambling to get his sling up. It was easier than being yelled at. "Come in."

Sergeant Derriman walked a little stiffly in; the sling on his arm mirroring that of the Colonel's. He came to attention and saluted. Ironhorse returned the salute gingerly. After three days his arm was healing well but his bruises and cuts had gotten to their worst, making him impatient and short tempered.

“At ease, Sergeant.” When Derriman relaxed, Ironhorse asked, “How’s the arm today?"

"Probably better than yours, sir,” Derriman said with smile. "Nice thing about a break - once they're set, they don’t hurt anymore."

Ironhorse only nodded, waiting for Derriman to get to what had brought him in. “I came to find out how Dr. Blackwood is, sir. Everyone in the squad is concerned."

The question didn't surprise. Ironhorse but it did make him pause, searching for the right answer. Neutrally, he said, "The hospital releases him today."

His answer didn't seem to satisfy the sergeant. Shifting nervously around, Derriman said, “What we... I was wondering, sir, the Doctor seemed very upset about this mission. You know, about what I had to do to you...."

"He doesn't blame you for that,” Ironhorse told him quickly.

"I know that, sir. But I wasn't sure how much you heard and all... he was pretty confused about that kid Jimmy."

Standing and walking to the wide window, Ironhorse stared out into the dark promise of a heavy snow. After a minute, he said firmly, truly believing it; "Dr. Blackwood's a survivor, Sergeant. He’ll get through this."

"Yes, sir,” Derriman agreed.

After a long silence Derriman cleared his throat, drawing Ironhorse's attention back to him. The big man averted his eyes, suddenly seeming like a shy teenager.

"One more thing, Colonel. We just... I just wanted to say that... uh; Dr. Blackwood's a good man, sir.” Ironhorse blinked in renewed confusion. “And... I wanted you and him to know that I wish the best for both of you."

A thread of suspicion entered Ironhorse's mind, trickled cool worry into his stomach. He stared into the dark eyes of his top sergeant, saw the honest, embarrassed concerned for him and Harrison. The worry vanished under warm gratitude. It was hard to keep from smiling.

He extended his hand to Derriman. “Thank you, Sergeant. I’m sure you're sentiments will help improve the Doctor's spirits."

Ironhorse cracked the door open slowly, just wide enough to peer around the corner like an expectant child at Christmas. As much as he wanted to be with Harrison, he didn't want to wake the man. Turquoise eyes touched him, then returned to silent contemplation of the swilling snow storm outside the bedroom window. The isolation in the white paled to insignificance compared tithe loneliness in the warm room.

"Harrison."

"Go away, please, Paul,” Harrison soft voice instructed him.

He had expected this and ignored it. Coming across the room, he pulled up a chair with his good arm, put it next to the bed and sat down slowly. Adjusting his sling, he looked over at his friend. Harrison looked fragile and uncomfortable, his leg propped on a pillow cutting his movement. Ironhorse laid his hand on Harrison's arm. There was no response.

"Harrison,” he started. "I'm sorry I lied to you. At the time I had more things to worry about than my arm."

The other man stayed silent, refusing to look at him. Ironhorse's voice grew hoarse, hand tightening. “You were doing your best to bleed to death on me, damnit."

As desperately as Paul wanted to see the beautiful blue eyes, he refused to pull Harrison around. Long, lonely moments went by, Harrison’s depression cutting into Paul's heart, helplessness shadowing him. After a minute he leaned back, releasing the man’s arm and standing.

"I don't know how to reach you, Harrison.” He admitted softly with a wan smile, “We've said that to each other a lot, haven’t we? Maybe one day we'll get past it."

He started for the door, reached for the knob, stopped. "I’ll be here when you're ready."

"Paul."

Harrison's voice was tried, old. Ironhorse turned to find the handsome face filled with darkness. Stiffly, quickly, he came across the room, sank down on the bed and put his good arm around Harrison, urging him to his chest. Harrison buried his face against the soft flannel shirt, clinging to Paul's shoulders.

There were no tears, in all the valleys of depression that Paul had seen Harrison through there had never been any tears. But the grip around his shoulders gradually tightened, fingers digging into muscle and bone. He never flinched, only muttered soft words of comfort, hand running up and down the board back, touch reinforcing the comfort of his words.

Harrison shifted, jarring Paul's arm and he drew a short breath. Harrison was off him immediately. The blue eyes, dark in the dim light of the single lamp, shone with concern and infinite sorrow. Before Harrison could ask, Paul put a finger on his lips.

"I'm fine."

Harrison nodded slowly. Carefully, with Paul's help he shifted until he was resting against the headboard of the large bed, a pillow propped behind his back. Paul sat slightly in front and to Harrison's side, legs crossed. He leaned forward, resting his good arm on his calf.

"Tell me.” Was all he said?

More silence, another sigh. “Jimmy,” Harrison answered softly.

Ironhorse waited.

"I don't understand, Paul."

There had been the same note of sad confusion in Harrison’s deep voice in the endless night Karen had disappeared, on the rainy day Kensington had died, sometimes after sad visits to Sylvia. The tone echoed through Paul, brought sorrow to his own soul. He took a breath to speak but Harrison continued, talking more to himself than to his friend.

"He was so sure of his beliefs. He honestly and sincerely believed that what he was doing was right.” The sorrow faded into puzzlement. “He died saving my life, Paul. But he tried to kill you, thought you were nothing more than an animal to be used for sport."

The deep voice quivered just a little and Harrison snapped his mouth closed, blinking furiously. Ironhorse waited. Harrison looked over at him, anger taking over now.

"I thought you were dead.” Tears now, silently and steady. “I wanted to hold you... tell you."

He pulled back, wiped furiously at the tracks of sorrow. “Look at us It's okay for you to be in here all night comforting a friend but, God and the. Army forbid, you fall in love with that friend. It's okay to die for me but don't dare want to love me."

The rough, exhausted voice faded out with a final, soft, “Why?"

Harrison demands cut into Ironhorse's heart and memory, reopened questions that Ironhorse had thought he had finally found answers for. He had battled prejudice all his life and when he had finally made his peace as an Indian in a white man's world, he was now faced with being gay in the US Army.

"What do you want me to say, Harrison?” he snapped. He did not want to yell at his lover but the old anger wouldn't be stilled. “Do you want me to admit that the world would be better off if everyone accepted people the way they were? True. Do you want me to say that in all the time we've had on earth we haven’t, and probably won't and that's true too."

To his surprise, Harrison's mouth lifted in a slight smile and he laughed very softly. “Ah, Paul, I'm an idiot sometimes I’m raving over something you've battled all your life.” He ran a shaky finger over Paul's lips. “It would just be very nice to kiss you anytime I wanted."

The touch wiped away his anger, replaced it with love. Paul leaned forward, kissed Harrison lightly. "You are an idiot," he offered with a gentle smile. “Kissing me has nothing to do with your raving. You'd be raving over this if you'd never met me because you're a man that believes in justice."

Harrison watched him with a weary expression, anger gone, understanding the words but unable to get passed the shadows. He leaned forward, seeking comfort in Paul's arms again. Paul moved, propping himself against the headboard and urged Harrison to rest against his good shoulder. Patient waiting, filled the room.

"Do you think,” Harrison asked levelly, "that we will ever get anywhere?"

His tone wasn't as low, and his hand started a slow circle around the base of Paul's throat. But he still wanted an answer and Ironhorse took a long moment to consider it.

As twice before his thoughts went back to 'Nam. He almost smiled to think that in so much suffering he would find lessons to give his friend, and himself, hope.

"In 'Nam, sometimes we'd get kids like Jimmy, ones who needed someone to hate, someone to blame their misfortunes on; blacks, Indians, Puerto Ricans, whoever Some of them transferred that hate to the Vietnamese, even the ones we were supposed to be there fighting for."

He felt Harrison shift to look up at him but he continued, lost in nightmares. “But some, after living and depending on the rest of us, some began to see that people were people, even the enemy.” He looked down into night colored blue eyes. “If in the worst kind of hell men can do to each other, people can figure that out, maybe one day everyone can all find it."

"Maybe one day?” Harrison sighed.

"Maybe."

There was nothing more to say, no great revelations that two tired, wounded men could find in the dusk of a snowy evening. There was only comfort in love, and the knowledge that they weren’t alone in their fight. Harrison gave into exhausted sleeping Paul's arms. A few minutes later Paul followed him into the healing rest.

It was in the darkest part of the night that Harrison stirred. He lay still, trying not to disturb Paul, but he could tell by the change in breathing that his lover was already awake. The slender body under his was still, letting him make the first move. He did, shifting just enough to lay a light kiss on Paul’s neck. A heartfelt sigh from Ironhorse signaled that he knew the worst was over. They had gotten through it- together.

Paul's strong hand slipped under his chin, tipped his head up to meet ebony eyes that glittered in the single lamp light, love glittered even brighter. Harrison smiled, kissed gently on Paul’s chin.

"You should sleep,” he told his lover softly.

"You too,” Ironhorse insisted.

"Not sleepy,” Harrison said gently.

He watched a questioning light spark in Ironhorse's intense eyes. With a wide smile he signaled that Paul's instinct was not wrong Harrison moved to urge Ironhorse into his arms. His hand connected with a cut across Paul's ribs just as a spasm hit his own thigh. They both yelped at the same time and Paul scooted away.

There was a moment of stunned silence. Very gradually, Harrison's mouth moved into a grin and he started to chuckle Ironhorse scowled at him.

"What is so funny?” he demanded.

Harrison only laughed harder. “Oh, Paul,” he finally gasped. “You looked like a kid who found a rock in his Halloween bag."

For a second Harrison thought Paul would protest, but slowly his lips lifted on one side in the smile that had first endeared him to Harrison Now it also served to highlight the still swollen eye and split lips. Tracing one finger down the good cheek, Harrison sighed.

"I guess we'll have to wait a few more days,” he suggested with a regretful smile.

Ironhorse kissed the finger, the wicked sparkle continuing to dominating his expression. He moved, carefully lowering Harrison back into the soft bed.

"Not on your life, Mister,” Ironhorse told him firmly between clenched teeth. He shrugged off the sling, letting his arm lay across his friend's broad chest and started unbuttoning Harrison’s flannel pajama top with the other hand. “The Army is known for innovation. I'm about to give you a practical demonstration."

Automatic protest almost forced Harrison to deny the idea but the determined set to Ironhorse's chin made his smile.

"Okay,” he agreed, carefully shifting back to brace against the headboard. “I'll let you do all the work this time."

Ironhorse cocked his head, smiled slowly, remembering the joy of their first loving. "Oh yeah," he agreed, leaning forward to claim a light kiss. “All the work -and more."

The husky promise sent streaks of cold gold along Harrison’s nerves, caused shivers that started a slow rising of his cock. Ironhorse slid cautiously off the bed and reached for the buttons on his white shirt. Harrison held up one hand.

"Do me a favor, Paul,” he requested seriously. Ironhorse stopped. “Slowly."

Paul looked puzzled for just a moment, then glanced down at his hands still on the button. In the soft light from the single lamp, Harrison watched a flush tone his lover's skin a shade darker.

"Harrison,” Paul said hesitantly, "I don't think... I mean, I’m not in the habit..."

Harrison laughed. “I'm only kidding.” At Ironhorse's raised eyebrows, he added, "Mostly I do like undressing you. And since I can't do that, I'd settle for slowly rather than with the usual Army speed."

Still looking slightly uncomfortable with the whole idea, Ironhorse started to undo his clothes again. He keep his head down until he tugged the shirt free of his jeans. Easing the rumbled cotton off his shoulders, he gazed up with renewed fire in his expression, and with a very deliberate move, held it at arm’s length before dropping it lightly to the floor. Harrison stared at the uncharacteristic move, watching in silent amazement as Paul continued the graceful strip, leaving the clothes in small pile on the floor before returning to the bed.

"Well?"

Harrison looked into the beautiful ebony eyes. Several flip replies came to mind, and he knew that they were all exactly what. Paul would expect. He leaned forward and kissed the man softly.

"Thank you,” he whispered.

His response brought another flush to the smooth, brown skin. “How do I let you do things like that to me?” He glanced up and the love in his eyes sparkled straight into Harrison's heart. “Must be love."

Paul stretched out next to him, started a slow rain of kisses along his collarbone, as one hand traced circles around each nipple Harrison moaned, trying to arch up, but held down by the strong hands that were flying him.

"Close your eyes,” Paul's deep voice urged him.

"But ..."

"Hush,” Paul kissed each eye, urging them closed.

There was a whisper of sound Harrison started to open his eyes but Paul guessed his thoughts, touched a finger to his lips.

"Closed, mister,” he ordered firmly.

Harrison heard the drawer in the bedside table open, a fumble for something then flesh against flesh, but nothing touched him. The bed shifted and hard muscles pressed against his hips as Paul straddled him, easing down gently so as to not jar his leg. A hand took his, filled it with Paul's familiar cock. The shaft was slick with lubricate. At the same time, Paul's slender hand, also slippery with gel took his cock.

Hot lips touched his, asking permission Harrison sighed, opened his mouth to welcome the intrusion. Paul's tongue filled him as he became to stroke slowly, urging Harrison higher. It wasn’t like their usual loving; it was slower, building gently in the blood, not like hot brandy but a dizzying coolness, like expensive champagne. He picked up the rhythm, began to coax Paul along with him.

"Oh, yeah." Paul moaned softly.

Harrison couldn't resist any longer, needed to see the glitter of lust he knew was in the onyx above him. His eyes eased open, and a smile touched his lips at the sight of his lover. Paul’s eyes were closed, head forward, hair falling across his forehead. Vaguely, Harrison wished it were longer, reached out and stroked through it, never losing the steadily increasing tempo Dark eyes met his.

"You're cheating,” Paul said lowly.

Harrison let his eyes close again. A hot mouth closed around one nipple, sucking hard on it.

"Paul...” Harrison cried out, tried to push up into the tight fist. Paul's weight held him down.

"Imagine,” Paul spoke huskily into this ear. “What it will feel like when you're in me."

The weight moved off his chest, allowing them both to pump harder. Their breaths came together now, reaching. Harrison heard Paul's sigh He was suddenly close.

A wicked chuckle came lowly to him, the fist around his cock tightened, Paul's breathless voice teasing him. “Think about us, Harrison. Think about... how tight... when you're in me."

The thought boiled the champagne in his veins. He pumped harder against Paul's shaft, moaned. The deep voice continued, barely heard now, lost under immediate love and future promise.

“Tight. Hot. Me loving you, filling you."

The champagne vanished. He was in that single, crystal moment of perfection, when there was nothing in the world but himself and his dark lover. His hand tightened as he spilled his seed against Paul's warm fist. There was an echo of his completion from Paul and hot fluid spilled over his own fingers.

They were still, unmoving for a long, too short moment, then Paul slipped carefully away, sliding down next to him. Harrison opened his eyes, smiled at Paul's relaxed face, shaking his head at the still bruised features Paul blinked up at him, smiling back.

"Harrison,” he said suddenly, "Derriman knows about us."

Harrison stiffened, worry and quilt touching his expression. “Paul... How? What did I do...? God, what will..."

"Nothing, love.”. A kiss silenced him. “It's okay. He's not going to do anything. In fact, he gave me his blessing."

Harrison was silent for a minute, trying to relax his jangled nerves. "Really?"

"Really."

"Maybe one day,” Harrison smiled.

Before Harrison could say it, Paul whispered, "I love you."

“Always beating me to the line,” he whispered.

"Funny,” Ironhorse remarked with a yawn. “That's not what I remember beating."

"Go to sleep, Paul,” Harrison said sternly.

Ironhorse shifted, getting more comfortable against Harrison’s shoulder. "Yes, sir."

"Good morning!” Harrison said cheerfully as he limped into the kitchen Three non-committal looks answered him. “Isn't it?"

Suzanne put her dishes in the washer and started passed him, pausing to kiss him lightly on the cheek. “We think so, but for the past few days you haven't been so sure. It's good to have you home."

Harrison returned the light hug, smiled at her as she started for the elevator. He glanced at Ironhorse, who very carefully avoided his look. “Ah, well, it's amazing what a few days rest and good nights... uh, sleep, will do for you."

Even in the indirect lighting of the kitchen he could see Ironhorse darken. Comfortable silence claimed the room as Harrison fixed his breakfast. When he turned to sit down, he was surprised at the searching look Norton was giving him.

"What?” he questioned lightly.

If Ironhorse's blush was barely noticeable, Norton's was almost impossible but Harrison saw it clearly. In six years of association he had never seen Norton embarrassed. "Norton?"

Without warning, Norton blurted, “Are you two okay?"

This took Ironhorse's attention away from his daily paper. Harrison exchanged a quick glance with his companion, who indicated his confusion with a single raised eyebrow. Harrison looked wide-eyed back at Norton.

"We're fine, Norton. Why do you ask?"

The blush grew even deeper, and then determination entered the deep brown eyes. Norton took a deep breath, and blurted, “Because you were together last night and since the room is right next to mine. I can usually hear whenever, uh ... you’re together but last night I didn't hear anything, and I just wanted to know that you were both okay about everything."

The paper crumbled into Ironhorse's lap; Harrison's hand, complete with coffee cup, crashed into the table, and splashed, ruining the remainder of Ironhorse's paper.

"You can hear us?” Harrison asked his voice a little higher than normal.

Norton's expression changed from embarrassment to amusement. "Oh yeah, especially Paul."

Silence. Harrison couldn't stop the giggle. He clapped a hand over his mouth. It didn't help. Norton joined him.

Ironhorse came to his feet. “Excuse me."

As he executed a strategic, rather stiff, withdrawal, Harrison's laughter died. He started to get up and follow; afraid he had hurt his lover. But at the door, Ironhorse turned long enough to look back at him. The slightest smile played in the dark, sparkling eyes and tugged up the right side of his mouth. He raised a single eyebrow at Harrison.

Harrison knew he would have to make it up to his lover later, but for now all he could do was hold his ribs with one hand and with the other wipe his eyes with the dry end of a coffee stained napkin.


End file.
